"Thanks Akora." answers the young dwarf. "My name is Baldwin, and you are actually carrying Gundar, my mentor. I agree I could take some rest, but I'll get it as soon as my mentor is under good hands. His wounds are deep and I have patch it as I could. I wonder how he did survive that long, but he won't need to wait much more to receive the help he really need. Once that done, I'll start to take care of me."

As he enters the cathedral, Baldwin is amazed by the beauty of such place. He is impress by the great decoration in honor of Moradin, father of the dwarvews. For a moment, he slow down, distracted by the magnificence of the cathedral. As he feel Akora keeping the pace, he haste a bit his step just to fumble a bit. "Sorry" He returns to the pace he had, keeping his eyes toward the altar.

"Stealing, for survival, it's fair enough. Destroying a whole village, killing men, women and kids just to have some loots is far behind the line I won't cross. The life is hard, people are not always generous and gentle. Sometimes, the stronger will impose his rule, but that's the way it is." replies Chris to Gloomblade.

"Citizen? Ah! Nice one. I've been here for a month, I am far from gaining my citizenship... but if you want a tour, Michelle seems more the person you want."

Gloomblade flashes a toothy grin to Michelle. "How 'bout it?" he asks plainly. "I s'pose I could wander the streets by meself, but who knows what sorta trouble a feller could get inna."

Wendigo nods, thanking the priestess for her directions. After she quietly excused herself, the shifter stood once again. He had ran all the way here. He could walk a little now.

It wasn't long before he could see the cathedral. It was huge, dwarfing the structure's around it. It was different than his monastery. While The Monastery of the Sundered Chain was plain and simple, this place was extravagant. Leaded windows shaped like hammers adorned the highest reaches of the place, sparkling like stars. The doors were huge and the blocks of the wall were as big as many houses he passed on the way here.

The shifter walks inside, and sees many eyes glare at him from pews. Unperturbed, Wendigo approaches the altar, and kneels in prayer. He thanks the mighty Moradin for letting him reach his destination in safety and with such endurance. His prayers complete, he looks around for someone of authority.

"A friend in arms is a useful thing indeed, Ralak Nul. One never knows where a fight will lead, or what the night may bring. That, indeed, was a sentiment I picked up not so long ago from someone who had been very close to me, before the Orcs came. And I don't mean our good companions here... I mean, as we hear from their speech, both its topic and its tenor, it is clear that they are nothing to do with the approaching horde. To think differently would be a claim of ignorance, or willfulness. But the horde is a concern, and it is one we must answer. I have lost...

There is a pause in her speech, as she lifts her chin up, pointing it to the reach, opening her throat as if to sing, or perhaps to howl, though no sound emerges.

"I have lost more than I care to admit. But the land has lost more. The land is being violated... though usurped might be a better metaphor. One senses the urgency of the threat, and the fact that the danger will be met here. Not in this place particularly, but at this point in time. In the course of the events of our lives, of which you and I are perhaps more aware than our companions, Ralak Nul -- in the course of these events, we can see how much has focussed on these days, conspired to bring so many warriors to this remote dwarven outpost at precisely this time.

It is no accident. The land needs defending, and she has summoned her defenders. The orcs, and their goblinoid host can threaten the world, but the land will defend herself. And she will use us as her agents. But enough of that, now. I am pleased to have met all three of you, and I hope that our paths will cross again, and soon. One never knows where a fight will lead, or what the night may bring."

Gala has finished with her drink, even though a third of it remains. She has pushed it away, and is now on the edge of the cut stump that serves as a seat in this place. Her words are for the table: drow, halforc, halforc--the three she has found herself sitting among through the evening. And Michelle, whose presence had so filled the tavern that Gala struggled to tell which table she was at.

Gala didn't have that sort of personality, she knew. But now she was going for some air, and perhaps find a place for the evening. She stood, and made a hand gesture that she had hoped would provide a flourish to her monologue, a completing gesture that would leave a sure, confident impression on her companions. Unfortunately, outside of Gala's imagination, it looked like a small awkward wave from her elbow.

She exhaled and smiled and departed for the outdoors. As she emerged into the fresh evening air, she breathed in deeply, her arms reaching up to the sky, as if to increase her lung capacity. As she does so, she realizes how satisfied she is to be here, now.

She takes a few steps to the side of the building, and leaps into the air. when she comes down, her forepaws land first, and she continues to trot lightly along the street. She can hear more now, and she swishes her tail satisfied that her evening has been well spent.

She turns around to see if anyone is following her, but sees only the regular crowd of the city. The forest isn't far, and in a few minutes, she can feel the long grass beneath her belly, as she makes her way to a spot a few hundred yards into the woods. These had been her woods, once upon a time, but now they were no longer. She recognized them, and felt comfortable, but it wasn't home. The stump of an old tree provided all the shelter she would need tonight, and as she found it, she curled up against it, warming the ground beneath her, as she went to sleep.

[sblock=OOC]
Frankly, I wasn't sure if Gloomblade, Chris, and Michelle were still at the table, so, if I'm intruding and reacting to something RN hasn't heard, put it in an sblock and I'll retcon this.[/color]

Ralak-Nul, having heard all of Gala's speech, gives her his own little wave as the elf walks out the door. "Well, I'd try to follow up on that, but I really am not good at the whole 'inspirational speech' thing. By the way, are you guys still headed out on the tour of the city? I'd like to come along, if I may, as I do not particularily know my way around." It would certainly help to keep an eye on Michelle, too. She seemed somewhat...ominous. Arcanist? Perhaps. But he knew how to deal with arcanists. "Besides, there's safety in numbers," says the drow, while thinking the exact opposite.

Michelle grins at the two half-orcs but then glances out the door and frowns for just a moment, before her smile returns and she looks back at them "I'm afraid I'll have to pass for now, big guys.. I have some business that I've really been putting off too long. I'll keep an eye out for ya though." She winks and gives them each a peck on the cheek before whisking herself out the door into the evening shadows, with one last scowl at the drow.

Intelligence is the capacity to understand old Ideas.
Imagination is the ability to come up with New Ideas.

"Ow! Watch where you're going you..." Tresa spun round to see who it was had bumped into her as she approached the door of the Salty Mug. She hadn't noticed anyone coming out, being slightly distracted by the sight of a jackal wandering down an alleyway. It was certainly not usual to see one of them in town.

But even now she could only make out a shadowy figure moving quickly away after their encounter. "I suppose that's only to be expected down here. It's not exactly a place for maiden aunts and their entourages." she mused - and then giggled in a most unclerical fashion. After all she was a typical maiden aunt and she was here!

Still smiling, she stepped in without further ado and came to an abrupt halt, her hand dropping to the warhammer at her belt.

One. No, two orcs and a drow, and an air with still some tension in it. She glanced quickly at Krurik and started to relax when she saw him standing, idly cleaning a tankard by spitting into it and rubbing it with a sleeve. So, nothing out of the orduinary there then.

"Evening Krurik, how are things? It's been a long time, far too long."

Now that she had a few seconds to consider the situation she could see that the two big men were halfbreeds, not at all unusual. Certainly not in an inn run by a hobgoblin!

==================================================

Henry walked alongside Tregar in silence, automatically adjusting his stride to the shorter stride of the dwarf. He held the halberd in front of him, marvelling at the craftsmanship that went into it. He went to speak but emotion clogged his throat and he coughed instead.

Grateful now for the silence, he continued onward in that companionable way that usually only long acquaintance could produce. His eyes stared forward, watching the route they were taking but his mind flew off into a kind of reverie as he contemplated the battles and dire struggles that were soon to come.

Warrick Steel, Male Elven Ranger/Avenger

Warrick Steel

Warrick simply nodded at the comment of dwarf called Gombar, and followed the pair into the cathedral. Though he was aware of his surroundings, the elf's mind drifted back to the last time he was here.

The day was brighter, or maybe it was the company he was keeping at the time. Aleyssia was with him, laughing and full of life, her hair dancing in the light of the noonday sun. She had her arm wrapped around his and they entered the church unphased by the majesty. The pair had discussed at length their thoughts of the cathedral . . . and of Overlook as well. The fires in the cathedral sparkled in her eyes, highlighting the deep blue within. Warrick could have been anywhere with her and he would have been equally happy . . .

The smile drifted from his face, unaccustomed to being there. Instead, Warrick resumed the grim visage he had been carrying, the burden of the memory made life heavier ion his mind. He blinked a few times, getting used to the dryness in the air, and kept his eyes on the two dwarves.

ôThere is no need to apologise, Baldwin. You are stout of heart as well as of body.öGently laying the elder dwarf on the steps of the altar, Althea looks around, her eyes taking in the full majesty of her surroundings. The tall, austere pillars reflecting the inner strength of the dwarf she just helped. Along with all of their raceshe remembered. The detailed gilt work in the ceiling reflected the intricacies and nuances of their personalities. The solid, equal, patterned stone work of the floor reminding her of the firm foundations on which their culture was built.Why do I remember so much of their past and none of mine? Be patientůLooking up from the tessellated flag stones, she spots an elf, standing darkly by the entrance. His past shadows stream out of him, invisible to all but him and her. Her eyes begin to fill with sadness for the stranger and so she changes her focus. Drifting closer, her gaze falls upon a resolute figure rising from the altar steps. His bestial nature is so full of power and focus that she reels slightly, in awe. Her full lips pull into a smile and she turns back to the dwarves,ôCan I help at all, Baldwin? Do you need me to fetch help?öAs she speaks, her ice blue eyes scan the cathedral for someone of importance.

"Huh, well, I guess I'm off on me own recognesance..." Gloomblade says, giving Michelle a wink and a nod before setting two gold coins on the counter and heading out the tavern door.

Outside the Salty Mug, Gloomblade took in the sights of his new digs. It was a frontier town, no doubt, and probably not somewhere a Half-Orc ex-con ought to stay for long. Gloomblade had no friends here and likely, some enemies, certainly not right now, but people who'd rather the half-breed were gone.

Gloomblade's thoughts drifted to faith, a newfound notion he'd picked up while incarcerated. Perhaps he should find his way to a church, temple, or shrine, if he could find something compatible here.

The Half-Orc approached the closest guard. "Lissen, bub," he said. "Any chance ye could direct me to the shrine or somesuch?"